


A Little Prince

by rawrkinjd



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dubious Consent, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Big Dick, M/M, Name-Calling, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Power Imbalance, Prostate Massage, Sex Toys, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, belly bulge, isn’t a tag?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:49:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29535705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawrkinjd/pseuds/rawrkinjd
Summary: Julian Pankratz was broad, with tufts of chest hair visible over the hem of the gown. His body tapered into a narrow waist and hips, with strong, muscular thighs that had been spread open for Geralt’s examination. But his face was like something from a Renaissance fresco. Handsome, cherub lipped; his soft brown hair was artfully tousled and Geralt was certain he had highlighted those striking blue eyes with kohl. A clash of raw masculinity, salacious sexuality and innocent boyhood that teased at something deep in the back of Geralt’s mind.Or: Geralt sees to an obnoxious patient that has a sex toy lodged in his backside, and he decides to fuck the arrogance out of him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 81
Kudos: 566





	A Little Prince

**Author's Note:**

> So, a friend told me about their experience in the emergency room, and how hot their doctor was (and their disappointment that said doctor was an absolute professional, rather than a rabid horn dog). I told them I was turning it into trashy Geraskier porn and they were totally down with that. I _think_ the Jaskier-with-a-dildo-stuck-up-his-butt has been done before? But with a far lighter angle (and a different PoV) I can’t remember the author or the fic’, so, props to them for doing it first (if I’m right).
> 
>  _Edit:_ The other story is [Dr. Gorgeous](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28452897) by giddytf2. Get readin', folks!

“Julian Pankratz,” Geralt read from the clipboard as he stepped into his office. The door clicked shut behind him, and he flicked through the notes as he approached the bed. “Quite the predicament.” His patient had managed to lose a toy up his ass during play and had called into the hospital to get it removed.

“Yes,” his patient said, uninterested. Geralt heard the swift click of a thumb working over the buttons of a smartphone. Only obnoxious people kept the sound on in public, and the man before him certainly counted. “I hate to hurry this along, doctor, but I’ve got a date at one o’clock and obviously I need it _out._ ”

Geralt finally looked up and was rather surprised by the odd dichotomy currently sprawled out in his examination chair. He’d had so many people in his office in varying states of undress, their bodies sprawled before him, and he’d felt precisely nothing. A doctor maintained a professional level of objectivity to keep their patients comfortable, but Geralt felt a tightness at the base of his spine now as he examined his latest one with interest.

Julian Pankratz was broad, with tufts of chest hair visible over the hem of the gown. His body tapered into a narrow waist and hips, with strong, muscular thighs that had been spread open for Geralt’s examination. But his face was like something from a Renaissance fresco. Handsome, cherub lipped; his soft brown hair was artfully tousled and Geralt was certain he had highlighted those striking blue eyes with kohl. A clash of raw masculinity, salacious sexuality and innocent boyhood that teased at something deep in the back of Geralt’s mind.

It didn’t help that everything about him screamed _brat_. Julian hadn’t looked up once, too fixated on his phone, despite having his legs strapped open and his cock out. Geralt checked the notes in his hands again. Turned eighteen a month ago; recent sexual health checks that came up clean; non-smoker, past drug and alcohol use. He placed the clipboard on his desk and approached the sink. “Tell me what happened,” Geralt said as he soaped his hands.

“Hm?” Julian looked up from his social media stream.

“I said,” Geralt rinsed, dried and reached for some gloves, “tell me what happened.” He tried to keep his voice above an irritable growl, but there was something about that nonchalant little pout and apparent disinterest that rankled him. A normal man might be worried about being enticed beyond his professional boundaries so easily, but Geralt was no normal man. He knew this was unique. Knew the feral little shit in his office was a special mix of everything that excited him and he was too long in the tooth to get caught up on the moral implications of it. Geralt was bestial. Always had been.

“Oh, just experimenting, you know how it is,” Julian lifted his shoulders in a shrug, “but apparently you need _special_ toys for ass-play. As if anyone ever tells you that.”

“It’s on the instructions,” Geralt murmured, one eyebrow quirked. 

“Pfft,” Julian fluttered his free hand, his other thumb fluttering over his phone screen. “I know that _now._ ”

Geralt carried the bottle of lubricant with him and dragged the stool over with his foot. That professional detachment rather failed him as he sat between his patient’s thighs. Julian had a lovely cock; it sat plump and wet on his stomach where the stimulation inside must be keeping it at half mast, and his balls were firm and tight. It was his hole that captivated Geralt the most, though. It was puffy and pink, so very small, and glistened with leftover lubricant. Julian was waxed mostly smooth, with his pubic hair neatly trimmed around his groin; a pretty little prince. Used to being spoilt, getting everything he wanted, adored and cherished. Geralt’s mind wandered easily, imagining what his body would feel like on his cock. “This was your first time doing this kind of thing?” he asked, smothering his fingers in lubricant.

“Yes,” Julian replied, the very first note of hesitation entering his voice.

“But you’re sexually active.”

“Yes,” a little haughtier, “but just girls. I was… curious. None of your business anyway. Your job is to get it out.” 

“It is,” Geralt murmured, admiring the seam of Julian’s balls and the smoothness of his taint. “How big is the toy, roughly?”

“Not big. Barely thicker than two fingers. It was my first time. Are these questions strictly necessary?”

“Hm.” Geralt didn’t trust himself to speak. A virgin asshole, never enjoyed before, with only a small toy with which to experiment. He circled his thumb around the outside gently, smearing more lubricant over the swollen flesh, and Julian bucked with a small, bitten off noise. “You need to hold still. This will feel unusual. If it hurts at any point, you must tell me.”

“Yes, yes,” Julian huffed, eyes leaving Geralt to return to his phone. The chagrin stabbed in Geralt’s chest again. The little brat was about to have someone’s fingers up his ass and he couldn’t put his phone down. Geralt bit down on his smirk. It wouldn’t hold his interest for long. There was a lot of fun he could have under the pretence of removing the toy. 

He continued to stroke. Not strictly necessary, but he could see Julian’s thumb hesitate over his phone now, his hips giving small, abortive twitches as he tried not to enjoy it too much. _Sensitive little prince._ Geralt slipped his forefinger in slowly. Julian’s body was still loose enough from the toy and Geralt tried not to moan at how pretty his ass looked opening up like that. The smooth channel clutched at the new intrusion, and Geralt slipped it out again slowly. Another little twitch and Geralt watched Julian’s head flop back, blue eyes flickering. 

Geralt’s resolve and cock hardened. The latter strained against his trousers, leaving a distinct line down the leg, but he resisted touching it just yet. A bit of denial was just as enjoyable as the release sometimes. He would get this little brat to mewl and think about the sounds later, in private, with his hand wrapped about his cock. Geralt moved his finger slowly, in and out, teasing the muscles a little looser until they welcomed a second. 

The wet, puckered furl looked beautiful around Geralt’s fingers, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek to stem a soft moan of appreciation. This was the most it had ever taken, perhaps more, because Julian’s hands were slender, his fingers long and narrow. Geralt’s cock was _so much more._ His fingertips found the end of the toy easily. It wasn’t that far inside, but he hadn’t finished having his fun just yet. 

Julian was breathing heavily, his phone rested on his chest. He was gnawing on his thick lower lip, trying to smother the noises in his throat as thick fingers worked him openly so expertly. “Will you—? Have you got it yet?” he said finally, breathless and taut.

“Yes, I can feel it,” Geralt spoke softly, his low timber lending a feral edge. Julian’s cock twitched against his stomach, rapidly hardening, a long line of precum drooling onto his belly. The little brat liked it. He liked the pressure of something in his ass, the low growl of Geralt’s voice. There was a danger and vulnerability to it; the setting was illicit, too, with the door unlocked and the threat of someone walking in to see him with his legs splayed and his cock hard.

Geralt tilted his head down and hid his smirk, slowly pressing in a third finger. It still didn’t compare to the girth of his prick, but the extra stretch coaxed the first quiet whine from Julian’s throat. “Relax. Need to make your hole a little looser.” There was that cock twitch again—perhaps the way Geralt referred to his ass; a hole, not professional in the slightest—and Geralt decided then he was going to make this little prince come all over himself through fingering alone.

He massaged a bit longer before he hooked the toy. Julian grunted, his brow glistening with sweat, as Geralt eased it free; his legs braced against the straps that kept them raised in the stirrups as his nerve endings lit up, thighs quivering. The dildo really was an insignificant little thing, with no base to prevent it from disappearing inside someone’s body. Geralt cast it aside with a dismissive huff, and then turned to examine Julian’s hole. It clenched and fluttered, beautiful in its desperate need to find something to clutch onto.

Geralt didn’t leave Julian wanting. He slipped two fingers straight back inside. “I need to ensure you haven’t damaged anything,” he said, “be such a shame to ruin yourself because of your own arrogance and stupidity.”

“I beg your par—hnngh,” Julian gasped, because Geralt pressed down on his prostate with a slow, deliberate circle. His hips bucked properly this time, and his hands dropped to clutch at the edge of the chair, phone completely forgotten as the pleasure surged up his spine. Those lovely cornflower blue eyes widened and Geralt knew he had the little prince right where he wanted him— _his little prince_. Just for now. “Ahh, ahh, oh—is it—meant—hmm.”

He dragged his fingers in and out, curling them to tease Julian’s prostate with each pass. His thighs quivered either side of Geralt’s head, muscles flexing as they dealt with the rolls of pleasure setting his body alight. That lovely cock lolled and flicked, fully hard now, and Geralt knew it would be burning like a rod of iron against Julian’s stomach; desperate for release. 

_Don’t touch yourself, little prince. Not without my permission._

Julian wouldn’t. The embarrassment and arousal would be warring in his head now, keeping his hands gripped to the edge of the table. As his climax built, he couldn’t stop the sounds. There were those mewls Geralt craved to hear; soft, pathetic and vulnerable. Helpless and needy with pleasure. Geralt pushed a third finger inside, pressed his thumb gently into Julian’s taint, and the boy arched as the massage intensified. “Oh, oh, oh,” he gasped, his entire body shaking. 

“Don’t resist it,” Geralt said in that soft growl, and Julian whined in outraged surprise. “You can come, Julian. All over yourself on my table, with your legs spread wide, my fingers in your hole. It’s a natural response. Nothing to be ashamed of. You want to come, don’t you?”

“Oh, y—yes,” Julian gasped out, clearly shocked by his own wanton abandon. “P—please.”

“It feels good, to be touched like this properly, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. S—so good, so good, f—fuck, uh—uh—ah.”

“Come then. Give in.”

“Nngh, f—fuck,” Julian wheezed and Geralt felt his channel spasm around his fingers. Julian’s back arched as his cock pulsed strips of hot come over his toned stomach, and Geralt continued the gentle rock of his fingers until Julian was begging—“uh, uh, uh, p—please, doctor, uh”—and shaking. It would be the strongest orgasm of his life and Geralt made sure it dragged out through the aftershocks.

“Hm.” Geralt stood, the stool knocked away by the backs of his calves. He gazed down at the young man with hungry eyes. Julian was thoroughly debauched. The sweat soaked through his gown, his hair immaculately styled hair stuck to a flushed face, with red flush up his neck. Geralt reached down and unbuttoned the clasps of the gown, peeling it away until it draped over the edges of the chair. Julian watched him with a dark, lustful gaze, beautifully furred chest still heaving, as Geralt smoothed his fingers through the sticky net of come on his stomach. “All ruined.”

So strong, so very beautiful and wanton, yet vulnerable. The kohl around Julian’s big blue eyes had smeared, and Geralt squeezed the rigid line of his own cock. This debauched slutty prince, with his sensitive little hole and pouty lips. Geralt decided that he would be his first; a proper fuck, so that no other cock would ever feel as good. The little prince would think of him when he got himself an appropriate toy, moaning Geralt’s name as he fucked himself open. 

Geralt left the table and pushed the latch across on the door. The room was soundproof for privacy, but the nurse would still bustle in with papers without thinking sometimes.

“Doctor?” Julian called, tugging at the straps around his legs. Geralt discarded his gloves and shrugged his coat from his shoulders, before returning to the chair and the lovely display awaiting him. 

“You’re a brat. Rude,” Geralt plucked the phone from Julian’s chest before he could snatch it, checked the screen, and then threw it on top of Julian’s folded clothes, “and arrogant. You’re a little slut too, begged to come on my fingers.”

“Hey—I—,” Julian whimpered, squirming under Geralt’s gaze. There was a subtle lip quiver and Geralt felt a surge of arousal. He plucked open the buckle of his belt and delighted in the expression of shock and fear that washed over Julian’s face.

“You need a firm hand, a reminder of your place, little prince.”

“Oh my—,” Julian struggled a little more at the straps, sagging in the chair when he realised he couldn’t pull his legs free without assistance. That pouty lip rolled between too white teeth, and his gaze moved down Geralt’s body, taking in his thick biceps and broad shoulders, his full chest and narrow waist. A pink tongue whipped over Julian’s lips, and Geralt saw that tell-tale cock twitch of interest. “Are you going to—?” Julian whispered his question, cutting off in disbelief.

“I bet you love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

“Not as much as you, clearly,” Julian croaked, the last vestiges of his defiance rousing. “Let me up. Now.”

“Hm,” Geralt hummed, reaching forward to squeeze a hand down the hot length of Julian’s cock. The young man groaned and flopped weakly, gaze still tracing the contours of Geralt’s body. Hungry, needy, and desperate for the next step, just as Geralt knew he would be; he was just too proud to admit it. If only they had time to train, Geralt would have Julian eager to spread himself open, begging him for his cock earnestly. No shame, only a lustful nymph, with his tight ass and blue eyes.

Geralt removed his belt and undid the bottom buttons of his shirt. Julian followed every movement of his fingers, pink tongue wetting plush lips, lips that would stretch prettily around his cock if he made them. When Geralt finally pushed the waistband of his slacks down, his monstrous cocked flicked free, ruddy and fat. Julian gasped, and struggled again. “Fuck, there’s no way—fuck, it’s so massive, it—.” He struggled again, but Geralt saw his prick thicken, thighs bracing. 

Geralt stroked Julian’s rim again, still relaxed from his orgasm and the fingers that had teased it out of him, and Julian whined. “Tell me you want my cock, little prince,” Geralt ordered.

“Mm,” Julian pressed his lips shut, but Geralt wasn’t taking any prisoners, he dipped his now bare fingers into Julian’s hole and made him keen. “Fuck, y—yes, I want your cock.”

“Say please again. It sounded very pretty before.”

“Please,” Julian seethed, sagging when Geralt’s fingers withdrew only to bow again when he felt the fat, smooth head of Geralt’s cock against his hole. It felt divine. Geralt hummed appreciatively, grinding his sensitive slit over the lip of Julian’s rim, watching his own precum splash over the puffy flesh. He watched it flutter for a while, listening to Julian whine, hips jerking, before he finally eased his crown inside. 

“Ahh!” Julian cried, gripping at the seat beneath him, his thighs, and then Geralt’s thick forearm when he set the heel of his hand down next to Julian’s waist. “Oh, oh fuck, oh _fuck_.”

“Filthy mouth,” Geralt growled, gaze flickering between the gape of Julian’s body swallowing his cock and the wrecked, slack-jawed pleasure on Julian’s face. He was still so tight—everyone was around Geralt’s prick at first—and some might find the burning stretch too much, but Julian’s body was sucking him in, desperate to take him all. “You’re mine now, little prince. My little slut.”

“Yes, _yes,_ ” Julian gasped, his thighs pressing _against_ the straps, trying to spread wider for Geralt despite already being so open. Geralt rocked into him, inch by inch, giving Julian only a moment to get used to the girth; his body was made for Geralt, it had no choice but to yield to him. When his balls brushed the soft curves of Julian’s ass, Geralt took one of those slender hands, detaching clawed fingers like ripping velcro, and pressed it into Julian’s stomach. “Oh my—fucking—god,” Julian sobbed, feeling Geralt’s cock through the muscles of his stomach.

Geralt drew back and thrust forward in one fluid movement and Julian cried out in shocked pleasure. He would feel Geralt’s cock penetrating him beneath his palm, the throbs of burning sensation tearing through every nerve-ending inside his satin-smooth channel. Geralt’s sheer size meant that every movement ground over his prostate, forcing punched out, desperate cries. Geralt leaned over his conquest, gripping the edges of the chair to take his weight and free his hips for an agile, swift pace. Julian felt better than he imagined; so smooth, so wet, so tight. Every flutter of shocked pleasure clamped around him, sucking his cock back in, desperate to have it deep inside at all times.

Julian lifted his head from the cushion and gazed down his body. At this angle, he would be able to see Geralt’s cock thrusting into him, if not the way his body swallowed it; he sobbed in surprise as he saw the bulge in his own stomach every time Geralt’s hips slapped against his, welcomed the searing pleasure washing over him, making everything numb for for the swirls of building orgasm wrapped about his spin. The only sounds he made now were moans and pleas—“uh, uh, p—please, uh, ngh, ahh”—his body a helpless sleeve for Geralt’s monstrous cock.

Geralt decided to play with his little slut as his body fell apart. He thumbed gently over his nipples, making his back bow, played through that soft, downy fur on his chest, squeezed his firm, ample tits in a deep massage to change the note of Julian’s pleasure; the deep, wanton moans as he ground his hips deep for the duration, his heels pressing into Julian’s muscles as he moved hips and palms in slow figures of eight. It was a reminder that Julian was at Geralt’s mercy. His body was a mere toy for Geralt to slake his lust in. Julian looked up with desperate, watery eyes, so lost in rolling bliss that he could do nothing but cling on.

Geralt lost himself, drawing back to his previous pace when Julian’s eyes rolled back, his body surrendering completely; Geralt thrust hard and deep, his own grunts and moans mixing with Julian’s as he abused the open, loose hole now broken in around his cock. When he pushed two fingers past those pouty lips to pull his mouth open. Julian sucked without command, moaning wetly, and Geralt watched him drool and lap. _Perfect little prince. Perfect little slut._

“Touch yourself, fuck into your fist,” Geralt said, and Julian’s hand snapped to his cock obediently. His movements were desperate and uncoordinated, tugging from root to tip in time with Geralt’s thrusts, thumb occasionally sweeping beads of precum away to ease the friction. Julian cried out when he peaked. This orgasm was stronger than the one before, his body shook again, the tendons in his neck pressing through his beautiful, unsullied skin, cock still managing a stream of come to join the sticky mess on his stomach.

Geralt gripped his narrow hips and pounded into him until those sobbing cries were hoarse screams, the only noise his brain could conjure to express the overstimulation as his body seized. It took a heady few minutes for Geralt to orgasm—he clung on deliberately to watch Julian shake, cry and flush—and he pressed in deep to pump the boy full of come with a deep, guttural groan of primal lust. He smirked as Julian pressed a slender hand into his own stomach, hoping to feel the pulse of Geralt’s cock on the outside as he could inside. 

“It’s a shame I can’t mark you up properly,” Geralt panted, voice rough. “That pretty throat is far too smooth for the fucking you’ve just had.” He drew his hips back and Julian’s body gave a satisfying, wet squelch as his crown pulled free. Geralt took Julian’s hand and tugged it until he could press slender fingers into his sloppy, gaping hole; showing him what Geralt had done to his body. He’d left it sullied and open, no good for anyone else. Geralt guided Julian’s fingertips over his rim, enjoying the quiet sobs of awe. When Geralt released his wrist, that hand stayed there, and Geralt enjoyed the sight of the boy fingering his hole as he undid the leg straps for him. 

He used a few wipes to clean his cock off before tucking it away, and then mopped the sweat away from his face and neck. The white coat would hide the sweat in his shirt for the hour until lunch and he’d drive home to freshen up properly. He ignored Julian as he climbed awkwardly from the chair and pulled his clothes on, but noted that he didn’t bother cleaning himself with the wipes on the table. His little prince apparently loved the feeling of being wet and full of come; it would dampen his boxers, joining the phantom ache of Geralt’s cock in his ass to remind him of their encounter.

Geralt leaned over his keyboard and began to fill in Julian’s forms. _Dildo removed from anal cavity; no damage found._ The scratch of a pen pulled his attention away, and he raised an eyebrow at the packet of post-it-notes slid towards him. There was a number scribbled on the first one. “So you can mark me up properly next time,” Julian rasped, his voice sex-raw and rough. It was beautiful.

“I could get your number from your file, Julian,” Geralt observed flatly.

“You could,” Julian shrugged, “but I like it better this way. Cuts right to the chase.”

“Quite.”

The little prince, with his hair carefully arranged now, his clothes back in place, picked up his phone. Instead of glancing at what he’d missed on his social media feed, he slipped it into his pocket; in that moment, he only had eyes for Geralt. The tears on his cheeks could be passed off thanks to the nature of the procedure, as could the flush and red on his skin. “Oh, and uh, if this could stay our little secret? I’ve got a… um, a following. I’d prefer they didn’t find out.” 

Geralt tilted his head to the side. “Of course.”

“Good, well…” he fluttered his fingers at Geralt as he opened the door, calling over his shoulder, “oh, and it’s Jaskier, by the way. I prefer Jaskier.”

Geralt told himself he wouldn’t call the little diva, but he already knew it was a lie. That night he scrolled through Julian’s—Jaskier’s—social media and discovered a man without inhibitions. He was a small scale celebrity. An influencer. A different woman hanging off his arm in every photograph. No men though. Geralt smirked. So, he would be his little prince’s dirty secret. Geralt wrapped a hand around his cock in his large, sprawling bed and pleasured himself while dreaming of just how much he’d ruin that cheeky smile. He was a beast—imagined Jaskier’s tear-streaked cheeks, his desperate sobs—but he’d made his peace with that long ago.

Three days later, _Jaskier_ was sitting in the front seat of Geralt’s Jag, his pouty lips wrapped around Geralt’s cockhead and Geralt’s fingers fisted in his immaculately styled hair. He pressed down until the boy choked and spluttered, moaning wetly, so beautifully. Those lovely blue eyes watered, pleading, and Geralt let him up for air. “Good little prince,” he praised, and Jaskier pulled off with a soft pop, dipping to lave and suck at Geralt’s balls, so desperate to please. Geralt closed his eyes, thumb circling over Jaskier’s throat to feel his Adam’s apple bob, and planned their evening together.


End file.
